


lips like sugar venom

by liamneeson



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: F/M, Rockstar AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5423525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamneeson/pseuds/liamneeson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Infamy is a good thing, but only in small doses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Phase One

**Author's Note:**

> I think I'm going to continue this but I'm not sure yet. For now, it'll be complete.

“You have  _got_  to be kidding, right?”

This came from the down turned lips of one Laxus Dreyar, legendary rock star and if that wasn't something one heard from everyone with an opinion, the man himself would be quick to proclaim it. In his grandfather’s office he sat, adjacent to his useless manager, Macao and his equally useless PR director, Wakaba. Laxus could never tell where his grandfather pulled morons like the aforementioned from (he highly suspects the anal orifice of an elephant) but Makarov Dreyar had been in The Business for sixty something years and running one of the biggest production firms for more than half of that so Laxus would allow that the old man knew what he was doing.

But this? Fucking mental, and that was saying something.

“Do we look like we’re joking?” followed Macao’s groan because he might be a vet on dealing with every rock star with their heads up their rectums but Laxus had to be the worst case. Twenty-seven, patron saint of substance abuse and a guru of self-destruct. Macao has had to deal with finding Laxus is wrecks of groupie parties and then some. And his own son wondered why he was an alcoholic. “Look, we just think this is a good change for your image.”

And upon mention of his area of expertise, Wakaba addressed Laxus. “The playboy act gets old. You’re not a teenager anymore, pal. Anyone in their mid-twenties calling themselves a playboy gets a bad rep. Maybe Adam Levine gets away with it because he’s not actually a Class A Asshole like you but if you keep up the miserable serial womanizing, you’re gonna get old faster than a potato chip out in the open.”

“What would you guys know,” Laxus sneered. “Your wife left you.” he told Macao. And to Wakaba, “Your wife hates you. So I really don’t think you should be telling me what to do in regards of dating because I’m pretty sure I’m the only guy in this room who’s had some good ass in the last ten years.”

“Boy, watch your filthy mouth.” Makarov finally spoke since greeting were exchanged and he’d allowed the younger people to do all the talking. “This is exactly why I don't let you do as you please. You are a stupid, entitled braggart and ungrateful on top of that. If your mother were alive, she’d feed you your own tongue and a bar of soap.” when his grandson clicked his tongue, he continued, voice gruff and tired. “Wakaba is right. I’ve seen your type sleep with every woman who was dumb enough to look at you and forget about them the next morning. You get away with it now because you’re young but when all that beer you drink gives you a belly and when those lines around your eyes start to deepen, no one’s going to think your shoot and run tactics are cute anymore.”

“Don’t get us wrong. Infamy is a good thing,” Wakaba put in when the room got dangerously silent. The waves radiating off the Dreyars scared him. “In moderation, of course. Everyone loves a bad boy harboring a heart of gold. You can still call every paparazzi your creative expletives and you can clobber Italian heirs outside bars and kick their Bugatti windshields in and hey, you can even trash suites at every city we tour in. But when they know you go home to a sweet little thing? They’re gonna wonder if you’re really all that bad if she puts up with you. They’re gonna think, this guy is settling down. Maybe his head’s not filled with PCP and semen after all.”

Sweat beaded at Laxus’ hairline, dread boiling in his gut. “You want me to marry someone? A nice girl who goes to bible study and eats kale?” his tongue goes dry at the thought.

“We meant most of that figuratively.” Macao amended. If Laxus saw the look on his own face… “We want you to date her. Be out in public together, show them a side of you that inspires domesticity and warmth. Hold hands, hug, walk her dog, have picnics, eat ice cream, go to carnivals, that sort of thing.”

The examples given threw Laxus for a loop. He couldn’t remember doing any of those things since he was in high school. “Is she twelve or something? What the fuck? Who does those?”

Macao snickered and gestured at Wakaba to unlock his iPad. “Meet Mirajane Strauss…”

He couldn’t remember when the last time was that he’d met someone at a cafe for a date. Rock stars like him generally limited their patronizing of Starbucks and its ilk to an impatient coffee run to battle the dregs of a hangover before running to hair and makeup for a day-long shoot or, God forbid, having to look presentable for Jimmy Fallon. But he’d been sitting in a rattan chair too small for him waiting for this Mirajane person to show up and if she thought she was winning any brownie points for the fashionably late bullshit girls did, she was terribly wrong and he was going to kick her ass, prairie girl image or not.

She arrived when he was just hanging up from a phone call with Macao (“Fuck you, is this some sort of prank? I’m never even awake at this hour.”) and he hated clichés so he was not going to say the world stopped, but it did slow down, quite a lot.

Holy God, she was hot. The Wikipedia photo Wakaba showed him wasn’t even on her league but then again, Laxus knew by now that everyone who made Wiki articles always chose the ugliest photos possible. She was wearing a thing. Some tiny yellow thing that was tight everywhere and it took him a while to process that it was a crop top of sunflower print and matching shorts and it might look like something a girl from Nebraska would wear but if the subtle tightening of his pants was any indication, he liked it on her. She looked like sunshine, holy shit, and that hair couldn’t be real. The poet in Laxus could only pay so much homage until he got crude so he wiled his blood to cool. _Be fucking ice, Laxus, you can do this. She won’t fuck you if she thinks you want her._

He didn’t rise when she stopped in front of his table (doesn't know he has to) and she looked a little peeved when she pulled out her own chair and sat. “Good to see chivalry isn’t dead. Thanks for being such a gentleman.”

Tart words weren’t what he expected from someone who looked like the personification of cheesecake but he could dig it. He was glad she was saucy and not some Sunday School Daisy Anne like his team had him believing. “Are you mad I didn’t lick the floor before you could step on it or something?” he flicked some cigarette ash from his jeans because he might be thirsty but she sure as hell wouldn’t know that. “I’m sure you knew you weren’t going to be meeting Clark Kent today. And I’m sure you know who I am. Though to be honest I really can’t say the same about you. I’m not trying to be rude,” he said before she could object. “I don’t really keep a finger in grapevine pies, if you catch my drift. We don’t run the same scenes so you can’t really blame me. I know you’re a model and you’re good at it. I’ll have to see some pictures, though; now that I see you’re a fucking babe in real life. You have a dog, which we will have to walk sometimes because it would be cute for an ape like me to hold a small dog. I know Elfman Strauss is your brother and hey, good job with that. That kid is nuts for dating Evergreen but he knows his drums. I know you’re an orphan and Wakaba said we could bond over that. Hm.” his eyes never left hers as he took a sip of his cold coffee and if the scathing looks she sent his was of any effect, he didn’t let it show. “I guess that’s it. Open communication is good, right?”

Mirajane’s small, well-manicured hand unclenched from the water bottle she’d bought. Grandine was correct when she said that all Mira needed to know about Laxus was that he was despicable. Though the old lady did forgo the courtesy of showing what he looked like so it took all of Mira’s composure not to let the first look at him punch her in the gut. She always did like guys who looked like they broke hearts. “Guilty on all charges. No, I do not like your late night lifestyle but I won’t turn it down when I feel it. I model full time. It’s rewarding work. My dog is named Alexandria and he won’t discriminate against tactless apes like you so yes we can walk him around. Elfman and I have another sibling named Lisanna and I taught both of them all they knew about music. We’re quite the musical family. I don’t want to bond about dead parents, and yes, open communication would be good since we’d be lying through our teeth for all this.”

Mirajane took a deep breath and told herself she couldn’t allow this man to rattle her. “Please try not to disrespect me. I won’t have it and I would hate for our hard work to go to waste. If you think you have something funny to say, you’d best keep it to yourself. Chances are they won’t please me. You seem like the type of man I wouldn’t get along with on a regular day, but I will commit to this and I hope you will too, as this is for your own benefit. Seeing as you have never dated conventionally before, I will take the reins in this farce. Do what I tell you to and I promise I won’t make you do anything unnecessary, just enough to tease the public. Does that sound good?”

Leaning forward, Laxus studied his partner and he couldn’t help but feel that she was nowhere near as stupid as she looked. And that was saying something because she was wearing a sunflower patch. “I have to wonder what’s in this for you.”

The suspicion in his voice was a delight to her so she mirrored his pose until she could feel his shallow breath on her cheekbones. “How about we save that conversation for later because there are some pubescent girls with their iPhones aimed at us and you should probably kiss me real sweet so TMZ kick starts our whirlwind romance as soon as those girls figure out how much to sell that photo for.”

His grin was something dangerous and instead of answering, he gave her a kiss that he wouldn’t mind plastered on every tabloid and social website.

 


	2. Phase Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured since I’m going ahead with this multichap, I might as well lay down my relatively reasonable law. I am bad at planning things so this will be a slower process of eking out updates. So really, spare me the “update soon” garbage because I will pretty much not do that just to be petty. That said, please tell me how you find this. Multichapters and actual plots are my weakness and I would love some feedback to sweeten the challenge. I always love talking to people and I swear I’m not as grumpy as that rule suggests. Rating was changed to mature because there will be good shit. Anyway, here’s chapter two.

So the whirlwind romance began, indeed.

True to Mirajane’s words, the pictures were quick to reach the tabloids. Laxus suspected there were more than the table of teeny boppers who noticed because just before the lunch rush hit and he and Mirajane were leaving the cafe hand in hand (at her insistence of course), his phone was going off the hook with messages from his team sharing article links care of his Google Alerts. By the time they left the relatively quiet restaurant they had lunch at, a gaggle of paparazzi congested the exit so bad Laxus couldn’t imagine walking home so he had to call for a car. It hadn’t been easy bullying a path through the most insistent press of bodies and harassment not only for himself but for his new lady love as well. With the narrow driveway made difficult to access because of the sudden arrival of the media, the car had been parked considerably far.

_“Laxus, who’s the new lady?”_

_“Where’d you find this one, she looks too young for ya!”_

_“You only good to go for teenagers now, Laxus?”_

_“Hoped you washed your dick before sticking it to this new one, buddy!”_

The noise got progressively disgusting and he should have been used to it, but he figured Mirajane wasn’t. Her hand gripped his so tightly her nails dug into his fingers and one look over her shoulder made blood boil under his ears. She managed to look both annoyed and horrified at their implications and before Laxus even had the time to wonder if she really was cut out for this job, his fist went flying at the last mouth he’d seen talk. And maybe it was the advanced wakeup call from earlier that day that had Laxus’s patience on a thin rope so a minor scuffle broke out just feet away from the car. The gush of blood against his forearm was impressive and in his periphery he saw some of it stain sunflower. Mirajane’s yelp was enough to snap him out of the sudden crack of violence and before he could bark out any of his usual acerbity, Mirajane was pushing him to the door his driver held open.

Inside the car, his skin began to cool against the leather seats. His leg jumped up and down as he wiped the blood against his shirt before it could cake over. Beside him, Mirajane did not speak but she was breathing so loud he could tell how distressed she was.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he bit out, unable to tell if this was any comfort. “I’m usually better at ignoring them.”

Mirajane bit her lip, her eyes flicking from watching the red smear across the hem of his white shirt to the scarlet dots that bloomed among the yellow flowers of her own. “I’d been warned they would be nasty. I thought they’d be a little more civil on the very first day.” She tried to laugh to lighten the mood but it came out forced.

“I’m not gonna allow them to talk to you like that.” He supposed with his less than pleasant treatment of those who occupied his bed held him at no position to speak but there was no excuse to be rude to a lady so blatantly.

Mirajane didn’t think that was up to him, but she kept quiet. So long as his fist didn’t end up in someone else’s face, she would say nothing.  “Does your hand hurt?”

It smarted like hell now that he was calming down. “Nah. You still think you wanna do this?” He asked quickly before she could press on. His other hand was still in hers and it was a bit unnerving.

“Yes. I’m not backing out of a promise just because some idiots were raised by animals. Though punching a man did seem counterproductive to our cause, you know?”

That, Wakaba did not agree with.

When the car had dropped Mirajane off and Laxus was almost home, Wakaba raved on the phone about the gossip channels he’d been glued to all day. Apparently, his line wouldn’t stop ringing from reporters trying to get a quote. For now, they were mum on the subject and figured to let the pictures and footage speak for itself. And the punch was the cherry on top of it all, garnering mixed feelings from the worldwide audience. While many were disgusted at his propensity for smacking his fists against faces, a greater percentage was swept off their feet with the questionably chivalrous display.

“Boy, you’re a real asshole with a temper problem but I love all the work you’re giving me right now.” had been Wakaba’s proclamation.

He slept on it without bothering to see what the press made him to be.

* * *

 

Unlike her counterpart, Mirajane was more self-conscious.

“Well, well,” came from the breakfast bar the moment Mirajane slipped the bolt lock behind her and she turned to see nearly manic smiles on her siblings’ faces. Lisanna and Elfman shared an array of take out between them, previously atwitter over their sister’s face plastered all over TMZ until the woman of the hour appeared.

“I’d wonder about the blood on your shirt if I hadn’t seen my prospective brother-in-law smack some jerkoff down a hundred times in the past hour.” Lisanna said, her grin only growing.

Elfman spoke up, amusement barely concealed. “I’ve always needed a manly family figure to look up too, sis. Thanks for making my dreams come true.”

Mirajane sighed, already too tired to be embarrassed. She plopped down on the stool and grabbed for the box of _gyoza_. “You guys are horrible. That was the weirdest spectacle I’ve taken part of and that’s saying something considering Enrico.” Enrico was the Italian soccer player she’d done an advertisement with that ended up in her dating him and breaking up with him three weeks later when he kept pressing that they have sex with his freaky teammate and his teammate’s equally freaky girlfriend, who also happened to be Enrico’s sister. “Can you believe this happened on the very first day? How insane!”

She’d been up for public scrutiny since she began modelling fresh out of high school seven years ago, back when the remains of her family still lived in La Turbie. None of it prepared her for the immediate and overwhelming hounding that followed Laxus and his ilk.

“Grandine did say it would be bad initially. I’m sure you’ll be old news soon, sis.” Lisanna said playfully, hoping to ease her sister’s mind.

“Thanks,” Mirajane murmured. Her stomach didn’t settle knowing it would probably be weeks until that happened.

* * *

 

Part two of the already stressful contrivance was pushed through the next day. It was four PM when Mirajane came home after an early morning photoshoot and she’d had three hours to nap before her phone rang.

“I hope you’re not busy because I have an idea.” was Laxus’ preamble, voice a little tinny through the phone.

“I was sleeping,” Mirajane bit out even as she pressed the heel of her unoccupied hand against her eye. “What’s this grand idea that couldn’t wait for a decent time?” It never really occurred to her that she would have to balance this farce on top of her career. Loyalty made such a fool of her sometimes, but even if backing out was something to consider, she would never take it.

“You do know its past seven, right? And if you’re tired, I get it. We can do this another time.”

“I’m already awake.” As if to prove her point, she sat up against her headboard. “Tell me about it.”

Laxus hesitated but pressed on. “We should go to this party tonight. There’s gonna be a lot of people there and my band’s gonna be there. I can pick you up in a couple of hours, I have to do this thing for my grandfather first.” he paused again. “That is, if you’re up for it. If you’re done for today, I get it. There are gonna be more parties in the future-”

“I’m okay, honestly. I’ll feel human once I eat something. I’ll see you in two hours.”

* * *

 

He came an hour earlier. She’d just gotten out of the bath and bundled herself into her robe when she heard the knocking. When it was clear her siblings we’re going to attend to it, she ran to accommodate. A peep through the bird eye revealed Laxus looking irritable. Mirajane unlatched the deadbolt and opened the door.

“I’m sorry, were you waiting long? I was in the bath and I thought my siblings would answer.” she stepped aside to let him in.

The lines between Laxus’ brows eased away when his eyes dropped to his host’s attire. The robe itself was substantially thick and closed up but he got his jollies from the fact that she probably wore nothing underneath. “It’s good. Sorry I’m early, I got stuff tied up earlier than I thought.” he couldn’t explain why he came straight to Mirajane’s home, though. He’d had half the mind to get a drink before the party or go home and relax but before he came to his senses, he was driving through Taco Bell because she mentioned dinner. He was still trying to talk himself home even as he turned the corner of her street. Maybe he wanted to see her. “I got you some food.” he handed her the take out bag, willing himself not to color at her pleased smile. He hadn’t been sure if she ate or had anything to eat on such short notice.

“Thank you. This makes up for you waking me up.” When he opened his mouth either to apologize or object, she cut him off. “You make a fine pretend boyfriend.”

Laxus huffed instead of answering. “Where are your siblings?”

She shrugged, walking further into the house and into the kitchen. “I’m not sure. I was kind of napping again until I went into the bath. I almost fell asleep again when you hung up/”

He watched with pert interest when she climbed the stool, a bare leg peeking out of the slit of her robe when she stepped up. “Look, if you’re tired, I really don’t mind cancelling. I don’t want to be a dick.”

Mirajane was grinning before she bit into the burrito and chewed agonizingly slow. “You’re so cute when you talk like a boyfriend. And I told you I’m fine. I’m used to the insane hours. I was on set thirty four hours once you know?”

He joined her by the bar, occupying the chair next to her and watched her eat neatly. “What time did you have to be at work?”

“If I told you, you’d fall back into your pit of guilt.” She replied with a giggle, wiping her lips with a napkin. “If what Wakaba tells me is right, then you were probably only going to sleep by the time I arrived at work.”

She was right: he felt horrible. “Well, tonight promises to be entertaining. You’re not really the type of lady I bring with me so my friends are gonna be surprised.”

She’d heard about that, too. Wakaba and Macao were as chagrined as they were eager to tell her of the notches on Laxus’ bedpost. Rich, bored, noisy and with a vice problem. “Do any of them know about this?”

Laxus shook his head. “No. Not even my band. Gramps doesn’t think they have to know and it helps keep things as authentic as they can seem.”

Mirajane thought she’d have someone to discuss how crazy the situation was with. Apparently not. “I’ll keep that in mind. I have to get dressed now. I wasn’t expecting you this early.” To tease, because she’d seen how red his neck got earlier, she pinched his chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Too eager to see your pretty girlfriend, hmm? You love-struck fool.”

Thankfully, Laxus managed to control the blood on his face. “You’re pretty saucy for someone who’s only wearing a bathrobe.” Intentionally, he let his eyes drop below her neck as if sheer will would make it transparent. “You need your boyfriend to help you get dressed?” he swiped his thumb over her chin.

It was she who blushed now. She hopped off the tall chair and away from his touch. ”Not in a million years. I’ll be quick. Let’s get this over with.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual scene up ahead. But the real warning is for the shitty song number I tried to write. I think I found something I hate writing more than fight scenes and that's song performances. Pray for my weak ass that decided to write a rock star au.

It was a curious thing, the idea of pretending to be in love. Why she thought faking a relationship would be easy in the first place escaped her. It was not exactly difficult, per se. Odd, more like. As she told Laxus, she was no stranger to the intricacies of romance. She remembered Erza, her last lover. One of her life's greatest lessons in the sense that it was lovely and painless despite the compatibility. Laxus might have been a far cry from Erza but he seemed easy enough to love in a way that could string the public along. He surprised her with his willingness to play along. Mirajane suspected this was largely due to his amusement rather than compliance to his grandfather's wishes. She hoped she wasn't speaking too soon. Tonight was only the second time they were meeting but his company was promising enough. Mirajane could never fault a man with a sense of humor. Anyone who could take their situation lightly had to have that.

He seemed like a tease, which was not that off-putting seeing that it was Mirajane who set the tone for that. She huffed at the memory as she tugged slim stiletto sandals on, her face flushing under the light makeup. She shouldn't have baited him like that and she should have expected that he was used to retaliating. He probably secured most of the inhabitants of his bed that way. Mirajane thought back to the pad of his thumb swiping across her chin, touching just the line of her lips. Unconsciously, her fingertips fluttered to touch where he had, feeling phantom tingles there.

Briefly, she wondered how he would touch her anywhere else. Before she could finish the thought, she grabbed her bag and ran out to where Laxus waited.

He stood by the door, eyes trained on his phone, foot tapping in an irritable but probably unconscious manner. Mirajane made no effort to alert him of her presence, just turning off the kitchen lights and making purposeful strides towards him.

He blinked in surprise, his gaze lifting from his screen to watch her move. Damn, she was a foxy thing. Her outfit was more skin than actual cloth, an image as maddening as it was delightful. Laxus was no easy man to impress but the plum number she had on had his brain sending signals right to his crotch. The halter neck showed no hint of cleavage but he found her collarbones alarmingly enticing. The hem of her dress stopped just above mid-thigh, showcasing a set of legs so long and flawless his throat tightened. Her back was bared, inspiring no innocent thought of his tongue on the indent of her spine and her shivering under him. Her hair was bound in what looked like a merciless ponytail, sleek to flaunt prominent cheekbones. She looked like what the merciful apocalypse would.

Laxus had no idea how he looked staring at her. It did a woman's ego god seeing what was a stone-cold man drool over her. She smirked at him, bringing two fingers under his chin to tip it up. "Close your mouth, boyfriend." Mirajane said with laughter in her tone. She had a dreadful thought that he would try to get back at her for teasing him again, and this would be an on-going game she wasn't certain she'd win. "Shall we go?"

He only nodded before opening the door for her.

* * *

 

He'd bought a sports car, which only slightly mortified Mirajane. She was one easily embarrassed over ostentation even if it was just with people she was seen with. She didn't want any attention drawn anywhere near her when she wasn't working and that might have been an odd thing to say for someone who agreed to fake date a rock star to spin the media like a dry cycle. Not for the first time since she met Laxus, she was confronted with the regret of committing to this before any serious thought. As was her habit, Makarov only need ask and Mirajane could never say no, but damn if it didn't come with some contrition on her part.

The show had to go on, so she didn't even bother expressing her chagrin as she got into the low car seat. Heated, of course, which only served to further her mortification. Her own car was a second hand Prius she didn't mind much except for when she had to call her brother to the middle of downtown because it wouldn't go into drive. She supposed Laxus could drive whatever he wanted. She just wouldn't think about her siblings teasing her about having a rich boyfriend.

They drove up to the nightclub strip shortly. There was no time to be nervous about being in public with him again.

"I hope you have no plans of leaving me to sit in a corner while you make rounds. We have to be seen together or this effort will be useless." She checked her lipstick on a tiny mirror and was satisfied when none of it got on her teeth.

Laxus pulled the car to a stop in front of the valet. He didn't want a repeat of getting mobbed again. He could still see the look on her face at the nasty insinuations of the journalistic scum. "If this is you hinting at me to hold your hand all night, you only need to ask, sweetie." He grinned at her before stepping out of the vehicle. One of the valets opened Mirajane's door and offered his hand to help her step out. She saw Laxus hand his keys over with a folded twenty before he slipped an arm across her back. "Don't worry, I have no gripes about holding your hand. We can even make out real dirty if you want."

There as the familiar flash of lights going off on random direction, making Mirajane conscious of eyes watching. She could hear the people lined up abuzz over Laxus' arrival. "Maybe if you behave," she said sotto voce, smiling charmingly up at him.

His arm urged her forward before any of the paparazzi could approach. "Wanna grind on the dance floor? I'm good at looking trashed and nasty."

That startled a laugh out of her. "We're trying to make you look like a good boy, not transforming my image into one of your ex lovers'."

The bouncer allowed them inside and she was surprised to see it was more of a bar than the assumed night club. The atmosphere was relaxed; a gentle pulse that ran straight through Mirajane's system and the lighting wasn't atrocious. Generous warm light was kept on low but it was enough so no one depended on strobe lights and kinetics to see the person who held hem by the terrazzo or had their tongues in their throats. There were inviting seating areas instead of a dance floor, so the nasty grinding would be amiss. There was a modest stage with no present performer. Stylishly dressed patrons collected by the bar but an ample mass distributed all throughout the establishment. She could see many models from her scene, littered among the rich and the good-looking. A stale smell in the air was telling of the party favors that had already made rounds. It looked like a fun night without having to resign herself to tanking up just to see beauty in the flashing lights and mindless music.

"Cute," Mirajane commented, making Laxus grin.

"You said you don't really like this sort of thing. I figure this is a happy compromise." he led her further into the establishment, his hand still on her back. People tried to stop him along the way: well-wishers and friends who tried to pull him into drinking circles and pry about the pretty lady he held on to. Like a pro, he side stepped grabbing hands and managed to cut conversations before it could start. If Mira's eyes difn't fool her, there'd been a celebrity or two that Laxus dodged. Mirajane said nothing as he muttered about not seeing his band anywhere, but she saw them. Freed's green hair shone like a beacon and it didn't take long for him to interpret the rise of noise level as Laxus' arrival. Freed, Raijin's keyboardist, turned to wave Laxus and Mirajane over and the rest of the band who Mirajane knew would be Evergreen, the drummer and Bickslow, the bassist, swiveled to face them.

"You made it!" Freed greeted the couple that approached, his face lighting up at their front man, probably aided by the bevy of shots on their table. "We have been keen on meeting you, Mirajane."

Bickslow rose to offer his seat to her. Mira didn't miss how Laxus' brows shot up. "Laxus has been pretty tight lipped about you. That's all it took for me to believe he really is serious about you. 'Cause y'know, he's always talking pussy—"

Before he could finish that thought, Evergreen's fan slapped smack dab in the middle of his face, right where his odd tattoo sat. "Sorry he's being disgusting. He was raised in a pig sty. They wouldn't leave me alone about you, too." Evergreen knew quite a bit about her boyfriend's older sister. Though she and Mira never spent much time together, they'd had enough meaningful talks for them to decide they liked each other. Factor in the fact that Evergreen was downright terrified of Mirajane and it was a complete explanation on why she bothered being civil in the first place. Evergreen hardly thought Elfman would bring home a girl his sisters wouldn't get along with so she did try to be considerably happier and less of a bully around the Strauss sisters. She thought back to her first time meeting the oldest sister, how Mirajane saw Evergreen sneaking out of Elfman's room in last night's dress, her bag and shoes in hand. Mirajane insisted Evergreen sit and have a bite before proceeding with her walk of shame and the woman just had the oddest charm to her so when Elfman stumbled out of his room hung over and half naked, Evergreen was eating chicken and waffles with his sister. He didn't give it much thought and ate beside his guest quietly until he choked on his food when Mirajane invited Evergreen to come over more, and  _Elfman, won't you bring Ever around again soon?_

Suffice it to say, Evergreen felt no little amount of love for Mirajane.

"Okay, if you guys are done being elementary," Laxus growled as he sat next to his pretend girlfriend. "You want anything to drink, Mira?"

Mirajane felt adequately pleased at his band's reception of her. "I'm okay," she said, raising the shot glass Freed handed her. "You look like you're the one who needs a drink, darling."

"Aye!" Bickslow cried merrily, sloppily shoving a glass of neat Whiskey at the blond. "This dude is no fun until he's skunk drunk. To Laxus finding love!" Bickslow prompted everyone to raise tiny glasses even though they groaned at his toast. "To Mirajane and rock and roll and our new album!"

That, Laxus would drink to. He tipped his glass up, watching Mirajane upend the shot of tequila as he finished his Jack. Mira had a wild look in her eyes by the time she and the rest smacked their glasses on the table and Laxus' excitement perked at the promise the night held.

* * *

 

They did dance a bit. Messily, casually, Mirajane swayed in his arms as a mix with a heavy beat and an intoxicating bass played over them. Contrary to his earlier proclamation, Laxus was not much of a dancer but Freed plied him with drinks for the past hour so he was content with his hands on Mira's hips and her body writhing against his. It was nice, he thought. Hot chick in his arms, head fuzzy, blood roaring and he hadn't even snuck into the bathroom with his baggie yet.

People were still infuriatingly nosy. He didn't know how many times he's had to rip off some asswipe fawning over Mirajane, handing her a variety of drinks when Laxus' back was turned for one minute. His lady drew quite a crowd, it seemed. Men and women alike gravitated towards her, paying homage running the gamut from genuine compliments to propositions getting less and less subtle as the night progressed. After Laxus has had to drag her out of a circle of drooling men for the third time, he'd resolved to keeping her at his side even if it meant chaining her leg to his. She was already charmingly plastered when he gruffly asked her to dance and he tried to convince himself it was just so she had an excuse to stick close and it wasn't because he wanted to see how the flare of her hips would sway or the length of her body move.

He was laughing because she kept stumbling against him on coltish legs made dangerous on ice pick heels when Freed clapped him on the back. "Hey, they want us to do a little song or something. Most of everyone's here to see you anyway, and it would be good publicity for the album."

Just a little bit disappointed to be taking his hands off the cool skin of her back Laxus nodded at his keyboardist. "Let's do Sea Legs. You guys good up there?" He knew Evergreen was picky about her drums and Freed was no fan of sudden performances. "I'll be right there, just give me a second."

He took more than that to find Mirajane a safe place to sit, close enough to the stage that he could keep his eyes on her and free from any lingering men just waiting for the next moment they could pounce on her. "Wait here until I get back. Kick anyone who tries to talk to you in the nut sack. I think you'll like this song, and it feels perfect for right now."

Mirajane had a glassy look in her eyes which begged if she understood what he was saying but she nodded languidly and clutched her hands into the collar of his shirt. She dragged him down until his face was level with hers and whispered in his ear, "Hurry back, boyfriend." Her lips moved deliciously against his ear and her hot breath on his skin almost made him shiver. He slipped away while he still could.

Laxus jogged up the stage, a slightly tipsy mass of muscles and stupid grins as he took the mic and addressed the crowd. "You doing good, LA?" he crooned into the microphone, accompanied by Bickslow's ironic guitar riff. The mellow crowd roared their assent. "I'm gonna do a little song I like from the new album. I was thinking of a pretty lady when I was writing it." He looked right at Mirajane through the haze of stage lights and winked saucily at her. That was a lie, of course. He hadn't known about his grandfather's sordid plans when he wrote that song or the pretty lady attached to it. He wondered what their fans would think if they knew that the actual inspiration from the love song was the pure love affair he had with Bickslow's dog, Baby, and that the song had been written when he was fueled by some good Japanese meth from their last concert. It was probably better that they all thought it was about Mirajane.

The lady in question grinned as if she was in on a secret, and she was. The audience took it the way they were meant to: with romantic cooing.

The opening strums of Bickslow's bass bled over the high-strung crowd, inspiring whistles and cheers. Mirajane felt that trance wash over her, easily seduced by the strains of music. Soon enough, Freed's electronic symphony joined the gentle medley, the rousing primer for Laxus.

She'd heard him sing before. Prior to meeting him, she'd listened to his work both intentionally and not. The fame of his band was something unavoidable: the radio stations would have it, the malls, the train and even on TV when she bothered watching it. Once it came on the playlist during a shoot, electrifying the set with a palpable pulse. Seeing and hearing it live was a something else, a whole body experience complete with a mess in her head.

The deep timbre of his voice breaks out like a cold front on her skin, deep creeping hands around her consciousness. Evergreen lends the song a climbing beat, bare at first, then urgent. For a while, Mirajane cannot distinguish words. The miscellany of instruments is something she can appreciate on a normal day but not so much in her current stupor. All she can perceive is the sound of him, and that she wants him.

The song ends on a hypnotic descant from Freed's keys, drawing out the corporeal tune. Laxus flashes the crowd one last insolent smirk before leaping off the raised platform and beelined to where he left his lady accepting a stout glass of clear liquid without taking his eyes off her.

"Do you wanna make out with me now?" he asked once he plopped down on the seat next to her, draping an arm around the back rest and looking self-satisfied. He considered her over the rim of his glass as he dumped its contents down his throat.

"You liked kissing me." It was a statement, not a question, her first words towards him when he finally found her voice. Her lips were mere centimeters from his own; he could feel her hot breath against his face, could see the brazen look in her eyes mirroring his own. He liked kissing her, yes. He could not forget how easily her lips parted for him, how her tongue slid across his, how utterly delicious her strawberry balm tasted on her. How he couldn't sleep off the intoxication she had breathed into his mouth and how restless he'd been until he showed up with Taco Bell at her door. He liked kissing her, and he would like to kiss her again.

So he repeated what she said when they first met. "Why don't you kiss me real sweet, Mira? I know you like it when people are watching."

She took the bait, ignoring his jibe and shutting him up instead. She seemed to be in a trance as she dived in and took his lips, a clash of tongue and teeth. Her stare was heavy with a cloying lust until her lids dusted with a pretty shade of gold closed. Kissing drunk Laxus was different from kissing the sober one. She felt he had no inhibitions despite knowing the number of eyes trained on them, and now, her lack of self-consciousness matched his. Her hand fisted in his collar, bringing his face down so his nose pressed into her cheek almost painfully. In this state, she didn't mind it much. When she sucked on his tongue, a deep grumble resounded in his chest and his arm snaked around her waist and drew her flush against him. She gasped at the sudden movement and the heat of him pressing against her front. She could feel muscles in her lower abdomen fluttering and was quick to identify her own arousal.

"Laxus, please," his name left her lips in a coarse whisper, sending shivers down his spine. He drew back to study her face and saw the unadulterated wanting in her eyes. "Take me home."

He didn't need to be asked twice.

He took her by the hand and almost dragged her to where Freed sat with a tall man, all smiles and wandering hands. Suppose Laxus wasn't drunk or suffering an urgent case of blue balls, he'd have been more tactful of the reserved Freed warming up to someone at a party and welcoming the prospect of his band mate getting a rare night of good fucking like Laxus was vying for himself. "You came in the limo?" Laxus barked as he stepped between Freed and the man abruptly.

A torrent of emotion played out on Freed's face, primarily of irritation and shock. "Yes I—"

Laxus took the marble claim stub from his pocket and gave it to Freed. "I need to switch rides. I'll make it up to you if you don't put a scratch on mine. Thanks, man." This was all said in rapid succession as Laxus continued to lead Mirajane towards the exit. He had to shout the last part to a stammering and put upon Freed and again he wished he was sorry but there were more pressing, pants-tightening matters.

He only had one chance to glance at Mirajane and see how she fared with being heaved through a throng of bodies on the legs of the inebriated elevated on four inch toothpicks. She looked as harried to leave as he which spurred him.

They burst through the doors they came into and easily, Laxus spotted the hired car Freed liked keeping around. His focus was slight, only for the hand in his and the car in front of them. Never mind the cries of bystanders rising to deafening pitch or the almost blinding flash photography that started as soon as he and Mirajane surged through the door. Speaking of his companion, he pulled her close so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders and with the help of the beefy bouncers whose hype was exactly this sort of thing, bullied their way to the car graciously held open by Freed's driver who recognized his boss' front man and friend. By now, he was used to this crazy switch-a-roo tactics the band had to do for desperate measures and he had a moment to wonder what the situation was and if his charge was all right.

Once the driver was seated, Laxus called out, "Spiro Towers and step on it."

Not even bother to raise the partition glass, Laxus let himself get pulled down by Mirajane whose fingers tangled in the crown of his hair so she could kiss him. Laxus slicked his mouth over hers, breathing strangled moans into her throat. They didn't even notice the driver's flushed neck or how the man commanded the divider between the cab and the driver's area. For the longest time they stayed like that, trading sloppy kiss for sloppy kiss, hands roaming in an almost bruising pressure.

So lost in each other were they, their bodies coming together as if on autopilot. Laxus didn't have to do much to drag Mirajane into his lap— she eagerly straddled him so that the hem of her tight dress rode up her spread thighs and round ass and Laxus could see the swath of bright white lace between her legs. The suggestions in his mind made him almost lightheaded even as he rubbed the knuckles of his longest fingers against the damp slit between her plump lips and a loud sob shook the air of the backseat. "Fuck, Laxus," Mirajane ground out between her teeth, her hold on his hair tightening to a painful degree. "Don't tease now. I'll murder you."

A peal of laughter gave from his drunken mouth, whole body vibrations going with the constant jolting of the vehicle. As if in apology, he licked the stiff line of her throat, making her shiver. When he spoke again, his lips stirred against the skin where her collarbones met. "Easy, girl. We're almost there and I'm not fucking you three minutes away from the destination." When he got started, he had no intention of stopping unless she asked him to.

Mirajane whimpered against his forehead. Her body moved deliciously atop his, small punishment for denial. Her groin glided over the bulge of his pants so she got off on the friction and the grieved way he seemed to groan. As a small blessing, the car came to a halt and they heard the driver call out, "We are at the destination, sir."

Practically shoving the lapful of lady off, Laxus shoved a fist into the pocket of his jeans and dug out bills he couldn't be fucked to count and quickly handed it over the partition he depressed. "Thanks, man."

Laxus only had so little time to consider the dark look Mirajane gave him from her clumsy sprawl on the floor. Grinning by way of sorry, he offered his hand and helped her out of the limousine. The driver had the presence of mind to drop them off at the back entrance. It sure beat the ambiance of the lobby but it afforded him the privacy they needed. Without saying a word to the men who stood guard, Laxus strolled into the establishment, straight to the alley of service elevators the help used. When the car for the penthouse levels opened, he ushered his fake girlfriend inside and pressed for his floor.

His eyes took careful and shameless stock of his companion. Mirajane looked downright pissed but in a state of dishevel that excited Laxus. The neat ponytail from earlier was now unbound and wild and her lipstick gave minimal smears around her lips, telling of ravishment. Her dress was not properly adjusted and honestly, there was no need to fix it since it would be off as soon as they were behind closed doors. It didn't take long for Mirajane to notice his ogling. She leveled him with a cold stare. "If you think I'm going to suck your dick in a service elevator after throwing me on the ground like some common whore, you're out of luck, pal." Her voice was tart and unamused.

"Oh, darn. Here I was about to destroy the electronics so we'd get stuck here with nothing but our overwhelming lust." Laxus took her hand and bought it to his lips; he never could force out apologies that easily. "You can get back at me when we're all alone. I'm actually counting on it."

Mirajane said nothing as she watched the numbers of the floors light up.

After what seemed like a blasted eternity, a classic  _ping_ sounded their arrival at his floor. Laxus quickly lead Mirajane through the impressive receiving area, slapped his hand on the palm reader and once granted access, slipped inside the empty penthouse, a home to designer furniture and impressive, top of the line technology. No one was going to be appreciating the lovely interior of his home, it seemed. Mirajane was already shoving him against the octagon patterned tiles of his walls. "Where were we before you tossed me off?"

To answer her question, Laxus drew her up against him and slanted his lips over hers.

The noises she made crawled in his pores and into his veins and had him drunk on her presence even more so. Just her very existence seemed to alter the climate of his home, tropical and plenty maddening. His fingers dug into the pliable meat of her ass, bringing her hips against his in a desperate friction. In heels, she was almost eye level with him. A lovely, long leg slithered up the length of his inseam and rubbed dangerously against his package. Her hands gripped the hair on his nape this time, used to drag his face away from hers so he got the full impact of the look on her face that would have made a lesser man tremble. Her swollen lips moving sent a sharp knife of arousal through him. "Take me to bed, Laxus."

He preceded her to the master bedroom, flicking on low corner lights bathing the room in a warm, sparse illumination that was as romantic as it was sexual. Laxus stood before the bed, not so much dumbstruck as he was waiting for her to take the lead. The expectant look he gave her sent her pulse racing.

Nearly quivering from excitement, she pressed her palms flat down on his shoulders and made him sit on the edge of the bed. For the first time in the night, she was slow in her approach, slightly uncoordinated fingers dragging the low zipper of her backless dress down. The quiet sound of teeth unzipping had Laxus like a cat on a hot tin roof, anticipation charging through his system. It was impossible to draw his gaze away as she undressed, first shrugging her arms out of the straps that ran down her back, then tugging the material of the dress off her front and down her hips, her legs. By the time the dress hit the floor, his mouth was watering at the sight of her in strappy sandals and her tiny white underwear, indubitably dark from moisture. Her hair swung over her shoulder as she bent forward to relieve her aching feet from her footwear, hiding the swing of her bare breasts. Then, she stood again and it was her turn to wait for him.

Shepherding his stupefied mind into action, she took one of his hands and laid it on her waist. Watching his awe-struck face, she felt his thumb rub the thin side strings of her panties. "What are you going to do with me, Laxus?" She inquired, and that was all it took for him to move.

His other hand joined its twin in gripping her hips so he could easily heft her up on the wide expanse of the bed. When he flung her on top of goose-feather pillows piled by the headboard, Mirajane thought she would have been mad that he was seemingly making it a point to lob her around like some sack of turnips if she didn't find it so incredibly hot how careless he got with her.

Not losing his momentum, Laxus laid hands on her, on the curve of her breasts, the length of her arms, the lines of her belly. Intentionally unhurried was the gliding of his palms against her flesh, sending jolts over her skin. Then he touched the tips of his fingers to where his knuckles had been earlier, sliding sluggishly across the length of her slit until it barely brushed the apex of her mound. Mirajane tried to smother her cries on a fist she brought up to her mouth, perfect teeth biting into the bones of her carpals. Watching her made Laxus throb excruciatingly so. Some vaguely sensible space of his brain wondered how many nights would he have to take himself in his hand for this vision of her to ebb away from his memory. Seeing her writhe again as he repeated the motions made him think probably not in a very long time.

Not a man who liked to dally on most days, his thumb and forefinger took the dangly tips of her string bikini and removed her last clothing without much fanfare, tossing the white fragment over his shoulder to some unknown corner of the room. "You're so impatient, Mira. I never knew." He couldn't help but annoy her even when his dick hurt from the amount of blood rushing to it.  _Not to worry_ , he voiced mentally,  _I'll take care of you._

Mirajane imagine that the sight of his face between her legs would inspire the same sentiments of looking at the eighth wonder of the world. For a while she only felt his breath against the hot space between her legs and saw his eyebrows up from her standpoint. Then, she couldn't see much of anything when her eyes forced shut when his tongue darted out to taste her. The simultaneous sensation of suction and prodding knocked the very breath from Mirajane's lungs so even if she wanted to scream, she had no ammunition for it. As Laxus worked diligently with fingers and tongue and even the tip of his nose nudging her clit, Mirajane could see that comical astral projection of her soul ascending to the clouds. Not much homage could be paid in words with the burning phenomenon he built from her core and forced to every erotic nerve ending of her system until she imploded.

From his viewpoint, Laxus observed Mirajane lose herself. She trashed against the dark gray of his bed set, her head pressed into a pillow sideways so the lewd noise she didn't know herself to be making was muffled. Her torso seemed to flop with her restless beating, her stomach fluttering with every intake of breath and the unconscious spasms of her release. Laxus moved one hand to lay flat on her stomach, as if to ease the shuddering and root her to the bed. His mouth continued it work even as the turbulent waves receded.

When her frantic panting quieted into long breaths, Laxus eased from his crouch and mounted her. He wiped his lips on the sleeve of his shirt, eyes trained on her cherry-tinted face. "Look at me, Mira," he instructed. When she did, he saw there was a line of drool down the corner of her mouth, gone when he kissed her there. A heavy gloss set over the blue of her eyes, laying emphasis to her dazedness. Her hands reached out to touch his shoulders then running down his chest, his stomach until she settled for looping her thumbs on the belt holes of his jeans twice, making her hold on his sturdy and inescapable. Not that he had any plans on running.

Mirajane pulled him forward so he was flush against her overheating body. Her lips fluttered to the pulse under his jaw, gentle pressure against the eager pounding of his pulse. She said something filthy in his ear, making him grin even as blood rushed under his cheeks, something along the lines of taking out his hard dick and fucking her with it. Who'd have thought Pristine Strauss could talk nasty in the sheets? He'd have to bring that point up when she was sober enough to be embarrassed.

"Get naked already." She added, her tone feisty.

But for now, he was too happy to oblige. Pushing off her, he made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt, exposing planes and dips of skin over unrelenting muscle and that roguish tattoo that her fingers sought to touch unconsciously. When his hands flew to slacken his belt, a breath hitched in her throat. In one motion he had his pants and his underwear down to his ankles and it was easy enough to kick them off with his shoes. Now completely naked, he loomed over her, the size of him thrilling and just a little bit threatening.

She didn't need to say anything. The hungry look on her face was praise enough.

"On your knees, Mira." There was that commanding tone of his again, surprising Mirajane with the realization that she liked it when he got bossy. Not sure what he intended for her to do, or if he honestly expected her to rise above waist-level when her lower body was still racked by irregular tremors, she obeyed to the best of her ability, gripping his forearms to help herself to an upward position. Pleased enough, Laxus smirked at her before he maneuvered her so she faced away from him and she was kneeling over the pillows against the headboard. And facing a full wall mirror behind the bed.

Mirajane gasped when she saw the disarray of herself: hair hopelessly tangled, lips attractively bruised, breasts jutting out and ass sticking back. She'd never been an audience to her own passions. Instinct was to be unnerved by all this, to shrink away from experiencing sex from a voyeuristic and masturbatory vantage point. But Laxus was behind her, his warmth settling into the flesh of her back, his hardness rubbing between the core of her heat and his eyes watching her (watching  _them_ ) and expecting a show. She thought two things. First:  _I can't look at this_. Then:  _I can give him that_.

His storm-gray eyes bore into hers as his hands wandered, first patting the quivering muscles of her belly, then slipping lower until he could brush the pad of his thumb against her clit. Automatically, her spine curved and a coo escaped her lips. "N-no," she tried to say, nervous now that he watched her watch him so intently but her protest ended on a moan. Smiling lazily, Laxus's fingers moved in a vigorous pace. She cursed but failed to say anything else when her voice broke.

"Let it go, Mira. No one's watching you now. Does that disappoint you?"

She had time to think that they were audience enough for her but she held her tongue. "Shut up," she said instead.

Seeing her struggle with her desire and inhibitions was startlingly moving. Right now it was easy to feel that his chest was ripped open and in her hands was his heart, a sentiment Laxus doesn't think he's ever felt before. But there was no time to dwell on that now. Mirajane was involuntarily jilling herself off on his fingers and erection and he had no intention of leaving her hanging.

"I think we've waited long enough." He remarked needlessly, feeling her wetness coat him.

She bit her lip as her half-shut eyes regarded him from the mirror. "God, yes."

Without waiting for anymore prompt, he took himself in hand and directed the head of his dick to her opening. Torturously slow he sheathed himself into the hot depths of her, their groans mingling in the air. He looked right into her eyes as he pushed in, carefully watching pleasure make a mess out of her. Her eyes lowered into slits, wanting to close but wanting to see him more than anything. Her mouth hung open as it built on a silent scream. Her chin tilted up, neck muscles going taut as a bow. She looked like she couldn't decide on a reaction. His consciousness was sliced in two: half of it unable to cognize the speedy procedure of things and the other lax with a heady amount of lust.

Looking for a channel of release of the steadily building tension, Laxus kissed lazily just where her jaw and her neck met as he thrust up. Mirajane couldn't help the squeak that bubbled out of her when he hit that golden spot hiding on her front walls, the ridges of his cock doing wonderful things to the bumpy patch of nerves. He sank his teeth into the bone of her shoulder, his intermittent breath gathering in her hair. One of his hands previously on the flare of her waist smoothed up her stomach and cupped a heavy breast, fingers teasing the dark tips into pleasantly painful points.

From the added sensation, one of her hands reached back to settle against his nape, drawing his face closer into her neck. "Faster, Laxus, I'm almost—" Her head lolled back, her mouth hanging open in a wordless praise to whichever god was listening, her eyes screwed shut. Laxus had a sappy thought that she looked beautiful like this; a goddess in ruin.

Her vaginal muscles clenched around him, signaling the impending onslaught of orgasmic thrill that was still so fresh her body hadn't forgotten and was easily prone to. Driven to please and help her achieve completion again, his hips pushed up in a jackhammer pace, her ass slapping against his lap in a marvelous beat. When Mirajane cried out, Laxus knew he wasn't that far behind her. Watching waves of pleasure shake her form was a remarkable experience, one that would replace any and all fantasies he's ever had to employ in cases of lonesomeness in the shower or tedium in the bath, what have you. The cords of muscle around his arm tightened as trembles built at the base of his spine then rolled over his entire body as he emptied himself into her.

Spent, he was unable to hold her limp form up so he let her melt onto the pillows below her. She was positively radiant against his dark sheets as she stared up contentedly at him, her mouth parted sexily, just begging to be kissed. So he did just that, lowering his body above hers so he could tease those satisfied sighs from her lips.

Tired now, his face dropped against the side of her neck and that was how they fell asleep, not knowing the storm that tomorrow brought.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Her height has been altered because she is a model so she's 5'10 to Laxus' 6'7. She's 24 and Laxus is 27. Mirajane is bi. I guess if you want a vibe of what Raijin sounds like, I'm leaning towards The Weeknd but more punk rock? Got that dark and sexy vibe, douchey lyrics but undeniably hot. I listened to them every time I wrote this so it's a good bet. For Laxus' voice itself, just try imagining Jared Leto and I hate myself for saying that. But look for his cover of "Stay" with BBC Radio on youtube. I've always vibed him that way.  
> Also can we please talk about Undercut!Laxus? The aesthetic of my dreams? Even with that god-awful fur coat? Yes.


End file.
